Can love still speak its name when pain wears its perfume?
Fierce passion,
hunted with pure desire;
your intoxicating scent ensnared.
Honey words
wrapped me in snug warm wool
while your grip tightened around my throat.
You caged me
within purple and blue;
beaten and broken into despair.
—H, kissed by cruelty and clothed in bruises
This poem follows a 3–6–9 syllabic structure – a form inspired by Nikola Tesla’s theory of energy, rhythm and repetition.
Along strobe-lit streets the gossip creeps, spraying rotten blossoms while hungry bees sip spoilt nectar. Every whispered word a seed of rot.
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A lyrical cry against the double standards of voice and silence, this poem challenges the unchecked power of those deemed untouchable while the speaker is forced to kneel, apologize and disappear.
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Beneath the moon’s deceitful glow, love coils around its prey — a dark waltz between devotion and the knife.
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I laid all my bets on men I hadn’t met; strangers on the street, and hoped they wouldn’t cheat. This poignant lyric poem captures the aching contradiction of longing for love after being emotionally ravaged by it.
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He gave me what my father never could—then tore it away in the night. Beneath his caress, bruises bloomed. His words bewitched the ghosts of my heart. In his embrace, I withered, unseen by the world.
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Tearful eyes searched the horizon for a mistake that never existed. Love was replaced, dreams scattered, and a heart ensnared by silence and cold retreat.
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A social micro-poem in 3–6–9 form that cries out against the silencing of truth. In a world overrun by beasts of terror, those who spoke were shamed, erased and left unheard.
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A glimmer in the dark — his eyes searching for solace where none exists, finding only the cold chain of his own despair.
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Gay-Bashed
A defiant and heart-rending poem that confronts gay oppression head-on. From bashed bodies to buried love letters, it exposes the cost of silence, and the strength it takes to endure.
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